specialist sees value in a few
soldiers her age helping to
calm the emotional currents
of an increasingly youthful
battalion.
“That whole rebellion thing,
that’s long gone,” Parker said.
“When you’re 40, you’ve had
experience with rolling with
the punches and doing what
you’re told. We all have a
boss, right?”
And, in her case, a
benevolent one: Even as
Parker collects her National
Guard pay, Bank of America
is paying her full salary for
from her civilian job. After
that, the bank will make up
any difference between what
she made back in Belfast and
what’s she’s paid in theater
as an Army specialist.
“It’s a great job and they’re
very supportive of me over
here,” said Parker. “It’s just a
great company to work for.”
Ditto for Sgt. Todd Mills, 46,
of Gorham. With no loss of
income, he’s stepping away
for nine months from his
suit-and-tie job as a senior
portfolio manager for TD
Bank in Portland because ...
why?
“I felt like a hypocrite,”
replied Mills, who served for
10 years as a much younger
man in the Army Reserve but
never deployed. Then, one
day in 2006, he found himself
watching his 26-year-old son,
villagers came out – and
we’re just sitting there,” Mills
said. “The adults all stood
back and watched, but not
the kids.”
as a military policemen with
the Army.
In Afghanistan’s male-
dominated society, such
situations invariably play out
the same way: The young
boys come closest to the
massive military trucks and
“I told my wife (Francine),
‘It’s now or never,’ ” Mills
recalled. “I just felt like I
wasn’t doing my part. When
I look back in 20 years and
say, ‘All right, this is what
you did,’ I know I’ll feel good
about it.”
Mills frequently sees himself
as a mentor for younger
soldiers caught between
the obvious challenges of
life in a war zone and the
less detectable but equally
from girlfriends, wives
and, toughest of all, young
children. (In addition to
Michael, Mills has a 22-year-
old daughter, Nicole, and a
17-year-old son, Zach.)
“Your heart breaks and
aches for them,” Mills said,
recalling the anguish of more
than a few young soldiers
who logged onto Skype on
that their families were still
ice storm.
It was, he said, “one of those
Sgt. Todd Mills of Gorham, who traded his portfolio manager suit and tie for
fatigues and body armor, prepares Thursday for battle drills with the 133rd
Engineer Battalion in Afghanistan. (Photo by Gabe Souza, Portland Press
Herald.)
days where I think I sort of
earned the right to be here
by being there for those guys
who needed it.”
AN UNFORGETTABLE WAR
STORY
Mills is a member of the
133rd’s convoy escort team,
meaning he’s spent more
than 40 days so far serving
as a truck commander on
more than a dozen missions
all over northern, eastern and
southern Afghanistan.
Amid the inherent danger
in all of that (his unit came
trip, but no soldiers were
wounded), one outside-the-
wire encounter stands high
above all the rest.
It was early one morning,
just before dawn. A truck
under escort by the 133rd’s
team had rolled onto its side,
forcing the entire convoy to
a full stop in a small Afghan
village while a wrecker went
about righting the disabled
vehicle.
“Then the sun came up and
we heard the call to prayer
and pretty soon all the
whatever candy and other
treats the U.S. soldiers might
toss their way. The girls, who
wouldn’t stand a chance in
the fracas, typically hang
back and watch.
“There was this beautiful little
girl,” recalled Mills. “She’s
sitting there, all dirty and cold
and barefoot.”
Mills, in cahoots with his
convoy commander, Lt.
Joseph White of Brewer,
quickly mapped out a plan:
Toss a few pieces of candy
way off to one side to draw
away all the boys. Then, with
the boys fully distracted,
sneak an unopened Pop-Tart
to the little girl.
“She picked it up and she
looked at us with big wide
eyes and she ran over to this
group of other girls,” Mills
said. “Then she opened it
up and broke it up into little
pieces and all the little girls
shared it. So by the time the
boys came over, all of these
little girls had a small piece
and were eating them.”
It was, of course, the tiniest
of ripples in the deep and
often dark pool that is
Operation Enduring Freedom.
At the same time, though,
Mills felt light years away
from the suit, the tie and
all the other trappings of a
typical, middle-age American
bank executive’s daily
routine.
A high-performing investment
portfolio, after all, is nice. But
the smiles of so many Afghan
Pop Tart?
That’s off the charts.
“Those are the things where
you sit back and go, ‘God that
was amazing,’ ” Mills said,
still savoring his favorite war
story. “Those are the things
you want to remember.”